Caring Is Not An Advantage
by VancouverCanucks01
Summary: When John and Sherlock are invited to spend Christmas Day with Mummy in Sussex, Mycroft is forced to bring his secret wife. Things go downhill from there... - Originally posted on A03.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Originally posted on my A03 profile, SherlockianWhovian. Please review!**_

* * *

"Mummy has invited you and Sherlock to spend Christmas with her down in Sussex." Mycroft Holmes told John Watson as he sat in 221B, his umbrella at his side.

"And will you and Beatrice be joining us this year?" Sherlock asked casually as he sauntered into the living room, still holding equipment from his latest experiment.

Mycroft glared at his brother, silently warning him not to continue talking.

"Beatrice? Who's Beatrice?" John asked, looking between the two Holmes brothers.

"Beatrice is Mycroft's wife." Sherlock said simply, a smug look on his face.

"What? Since when are you married?" John asked, turning to face the older Holmes brother.

Mycroft sighed, "This is not a new occurrence. I have been married for years. Beatrice and I live apart and only ever see each other at functions." He explained to John.

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe this. You! Married! The brother who insists that caring is not an advantage." John laughed.

"Caring is not an advantage. I do not care for Beatrice. She is useful for certain work functions and that is it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the office." Mycroft said, getting to his feet and quickly leaving.

* * *

Mycroft hated Christmas. It was always an awkward and uncomfortable affair. This Christmas Day was no different. In fact, this Christmas Day was even more awkward than Mycroft had thought ever possible because Beatrice was sat beside him at the dinner table.

He'd been forced to bring her along after Sherlock had told Mummy that she would be attending. The two of them sat stiffly, clearly not used to spending time as a couple. Beatrice was tall, very beautiful and was clearly very intelligent. John spent most of his Christmas lunch watching the two of them interact. They talked and laughed together, showing very clear chemistry despite what Mycroft had told John.

"So how did you two meet?" John asked Beatrice as they went to the kitchen to get more wine.

"Through our work. It's top secret, of course, but I can tell you that I am an assassin." Beatrice replied with a smile.

"Oh, right." John said in surprise, clearly not expecting them to work together, "What's he like at work? Important and arrogant, I presume?"

Beatrice laughed, "You don't seem to like Myc very much. He can be fun and he, like Sherlock, has a wicked sense of humor."

"Mycroft has a sense of humor? I'll believe that when I see it." John chuckled, "You two seem to get along so well, why do you live apart? Why don't you just be a proper married couple?"

Beatrice sighed a little, "Our work is dangerous, John. Death is a regular occurrence. It is safer to be apart. Caring is not an advantage, it leads to weakness. By being apart, we are eliminating a weakness." She explained.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Second chapter for this story! They're only short chapters as I'm trying to update more often! Please review!**_

* * *

Beatrice and John returned with the wine and Beatrice took her seat beside Mycroft once more.

John glanced over at both of their hands as he sat down, looking for any evidence of the marriage. Mycroft wore a gold ring on his right hand whereas Beatrice wore a delicate silver ring on her left hand. The seemingly unconnected pieces of jewellery were the only thing that linked the two of them, and even the rings differed in design.

"Is there something that I can help you with, Doctor Watson? You seem to have taken a rather unhealthy interest in my hand." Mycroft said, snapping John out of his thoughts and back into the real world.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming." John said quickly, glancing at Sherlock who was clearly trying to resist laughing at the dinner table.

"Myckie dear, why am I yet to see any grandchildren?" Mummy Holmes asked, putting her cutlery down and focusing on her eldest son.

"My name is Mycroft, mother, please use it." Mycroft replied sharply, not looking up from his Christmas dinner.

Beatrice, being the more polite of the two, put her cutlery down and smiled at Mummy Holmes. "The time hasn't been right for children yet. We are always looking for a way to bring a child into the family, but we are both so busy with work." she replied softly. She gently took Mycroft's hand, ignoring the shock and slight disgust on his face.

"The way you treat this poor girl is disgraceful, Mycroft. I don't understand why you have her out working when you could support her easily on your wages! I may not know your exact job title, but I know that you are very wealthy. You're getting older and you're the heir to the Holmes estate, it's time for you to have your own children to continue the family line! I expect a grandchild by next Christmas, Mycroft." Mummy Holmes said sharply.

The tension in the dining room could be cut with a knife. Mycroft and Mummy Holmes glared at each other for well over a minute before Mycroft finally gave in and looked away.

"Very well, mother." Mycroft replied, glancing at Beatrice before getting to his feet and leaving the room. Beatrice sighed and made her apologies before rushing off after him.

"Did you see his face? He never gets told off by Mummy!" Sherlock whispered to John, laughing under his breath.

"Be quiet, Sherlock. I expect grandchildren from you too." Mummy Holmes said as she went back to her meal, shutting up the younger Holmes brother with ease.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Here's Chapter 3! Please read and review!**_

* * *

Mycroft returned to the dining room, his coat and scarf on and his umbrella in hand. "Apologies to cut this lovely day short. I have urgent business to attend to in London. Beatrice and I are leaving." he declared before he left the room.

"I really don't see what his problem is. Honestly Sherlock, your brother gets more cold every time I see him." Mummy Holmes said, rising from her seat and walking to the kitchen.

John and Sherlock walked to the window to watch Mycroft and Beatrice leave. They shared no warm embrace and no words at all. Instead, he nodded to her and got into his blacked-out car whilst she did the same. The cars sped down the driveway and went in separate directions when they reached the road.

"He really doesn't like her, does he?" John said with a sigh, turning away from the window and looking at the grand portraits that lined the walls of the Holmes dining room. He made a mental note to find Sherlock's portrait.

"He puts on a front, John. They care for one another immensely, despite never being in the same building for more than a couple of hours." Sherlock replied, "He doesn't have urgent business in London, he left to escape Mummy's questions. It's unusual to see him so annoyed by her. Anyway, enough about Mycroft, let's get our things and leave before she manages to keep us here any longer."

John laughed softly and allowed Sherlock to lead him from the room.

* * *

It wasn't long before one of Mycroft's cars returned them to 221B.

"What are you planning? Your thoughts haven't stopped chattering away since we left the estate." Sherlock said with a frown.

"Stop pretending that you can hear my thoughts. You may be skilled, but you're not actually a mind reader." John chuckled, "If you must know, I was considering inviting Mycroft and Beatrice to dinner. The more time they spend together, they might realize how much of a good pairing they are."

"Mycroft would never allow it. They wouldn't turn up or they'd make an excuse." Sherlock replied as he scrolled through the comments section of his blog.

"Couldn't we trick them into it? Create a situation where they both have to be here and then launch dinner on them?" John asked jokingly.

"That's the first sensible thing that you've said all day, John! The game is on to trick my brother! I have dreamed of the right time to trick him into something, to prove my intelligence is superior to his." Sherlock said with a slight smile, looking up from the laptop.

"Oh great. I've started world war three." John muttered as he got out of his chair and went into the kitchen. He prepared tea for the two of them, avoiding all of Sherlock's odd, and possibly illegal, experiments in the process. He walked back into the living room and placed the mugs down before he sat back down too. He closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet paradise of 221B.

The front door opened and then slammed shut, footsteps quickly climbing the stairs. John opened his eyes with a sigh, knowing that his peaceful afternoon had come to an end.

Sherlock looked up and over to the doorway, "Beatrice? Is everything alright?" he asked in surprise.

"Mycroft... Mycroft is gone..." Beatrice gasped out before she collapsed. She was in a bad way, her clothes blood-splattered and her cheeks stained with tears.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Hope you all enjoy Chapter 4! Please review!**_

* * *

"Gone? Gone where?" Sherlock asked with a frown, sitting forward in his chair.

"Sherlock! Come and help her up!" John said from beside Beatrice, glaring at his flatmate.

"She weighs very little, John. The job doesn't require two people. Bring her here." Sherlock replied, looking over his sister-in-law and taking in every detail about her appearance.

John helped Beatrice up and sat her down in his chair, offering her tea. She shook her head with a small smile, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"A car crash, Mycroft's car. You witnessed it. How? You went in the other direction? Ah, your car turned back and followed his. Sentiment. You went to the car, dragged him out. He was alive. You were distracted and he was taken. He's a hostage." Sherlock deduced as he looked Beatrice over carefully, "Where's his umbrella? Did they take that too?"

"Unlikely. I got him out but I think the umbrella was still in the car." Beatrice responded quietly, her thoughts clear and ordered despite her upset.

"Does he carry any other weapons that might not be detected?" Sherlock asked.

"He keeps a cyanide pill in a pen, just in case he is close to giving away state secrets. Without the umbrella, he is defenseless." Beatrice replied.

"Not completely defenseless. Mycroft's greatest weapon is his mind. Hopefully he'll be able to play with his kidnappers until we can find him." Sherlock said with a sigh, "He does so love to play."

* * *

"Mycroft Holmes. It's an honour to meet you at last. I've heard all about you and your infamous brother." came a voice from the shadows.

Mycroft looked up, "An attempt to intimidate me this early on in the conversation? I am impressed." he said sarcastically, "You're wasting your time by keeping me here. You would have achieved your goal much quicker if you'd just rang my PA."

"You think dearest Anthea would have assisted me? No, Mr Holmes, you're wrong. My goal isn't political, it's personal. It's you that I want. With you under by thumb, the British government is mine to control." the man replied.

"Surely you don't think that it's going to be a simple process to get me 'under your thumb' as you put it?" Mycroft replied.

"Of course not, Mr Holmes, but there really is no rush. I have all the time in the world to break you." the man laughed darkly.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Here's Chapter 5! Enjoy and please review!**_

* * *

1 Week

"Anything?" Sherlock asked as he emerged from his mind palace.

"No, Sherlock, still nothing." John replied as he read his paper quietly, "It's been days since you slept, aren't you tired?"

"No, John. I have a case! I don't sleep until the case is solved!" Sherlock said, getting to his feet and pulling his dressing gown closer around his slim body.

"Sherlock, there's no sign of Mycroft anywhere. You've got to get some sleep, this could drag on for weeks. You'll need your strength for when they find him." John said gently, watching his flatmate.

"Don't be ridiculous, John! It won't be them that find Mycroft! Those imbeciles don't have any chance at all! I will find my insufferable brother without their help!" Sherlock replied with a slight hiss, walking into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

John sighed and checked his phone once again for any messages. He knew that Sherlock had been shocked by his brother's kidnapping, but it was only now that the cracks were starting to show that Sherlock's care for his brother was being revealed.

Sherlock sighed as he stood beside the sink, looking into the mirror on the wall. He didn't know what to do without Mycroft around. His brother had always been there, controlling everything and watching over him. He didn't like Mycroft's constant interference, but it was strange not having him around.

* * *

2 Weeks

Sherlock sat in his armchair, calmly firing round after round of bullets at the living room wall in 221B. It had been two weeks since the car crash and two weeks since he'd last seen his brother. He visited the crime scene, Mycroft's house and Mycroft's office but was still no closer to finding Mycroft. There had been no contact from the kidnappers and Sherlock didn't know what to do next. He put down the gun once he'd used up all of the bullets and just stared at the smiley face painted on the wall.

"Oh Sherlock, you've got to get out of the house. You've done everything you can but we've just got to wait for news." Mrs Hudson said gently as she brought a tray of fresh tea and biscuits in from the kitchen, "I wish you wouldn't shoot at the wall, dear. Next door are really very worried."

"Do I look like I care about next door, Mrs Hudson?!" Sherlock snapped, "Why are you even here? You're not my housekeeper, as you keep reminding me!"

"Sherlock, really, there's no need to be so mean." Mrs Hudson said, placing the tray down on the coffee table and rushing away downstairs.

Sherlock sighed as he watched her go. He didn't mean to snap at the people around him, but he felt like his mind was in pieces. He was furious that he couldn't solve the mystery of Mycroft's disappearance. Why hadn't his brother left him a clue?

"There must be something I'm missing." he muttered to himself.

* * *

3 Weeks

After three weeks of getting nowhere and barely leaving the house, Sherlock had taken on one of Lestrade's cases. He was reluctant to work on something else as he didn't want to give up on his brother. He knew Mycroft was more than capable of looking after himself, but how much longer would it be before his brother became tired and broken? He shook his head a little, focusing on the crime scene in front of him. At least this one was a 7 on his scale.

"Sherlock, you're smiling at a crime scene. A bit not good, remember?" John teased gently as he stood beside his best friend.

"Sorry John, it's just nice to have a proper murder to solve." Sherlock replied before he eagerly approached the body on the floor and began his examination.

John shared a look with Greg Lestrade. They both hoped that a case would take his mind off Mycroft's disappearance, if only temporarily.

* * *

Mycroft was tired, cold and hungry. Three weeks into his imprisonment and he was bored. His captors asked the same tedious questions every day and Mycroft refused to answer. Despite their threats and attempts at torture, Mycroft didn't break. He was missing the mental stimulation of his work and it was driving him mad. At first, he'd played mind games with his captors but that had soon become boring. He spent his hours alone in his, as Sherlock would say, mind palace. He closed his eyes and relived his memories of playing with a young Sherlock, university and his brief period of time as a spy.

His memories of Sherlock were his favourite things to relive. He focused on the innocent, curious and happy boy who's dream was to become a pirate. With a slight smile, he remembered chasing Sherlock around the garden. Just as his younger self was about to catch his laughing brother, Mycroft's eyes shot open as his captors returned.


	6. Chapter 6

4 Weeks

"Have you heard from Beatrice? We've not seen her since Mycroft went missing." John said as he looked up from his newspaper.

"She's probably working." Sherlock replied. He was stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed and his hands in a prayer position beneath his chin.

"Working? I thought she worked for him?" John asked.

"She's freelance. Sometimes she does work for Mycroft's office, but she mostly works for others." Sherlock explained without opening his eyes.

"Right." John replied as he considered Sherlock's explanation, "How did they meet?"

"Hmm? You mean Mycroft and Beatrice?" Sherlock said from his position on the sofa, "She was hired to assassinate him."

"How did an assassination attempt become a marriage proposal?!" John laughed, shock clear in his voice.

Sherlock sat up and opened his eyes, "Isn't it obvious, John? She failed in her attempt but he was impressed by her so he offered her a large sum of money to be his wife." he replied, "Everyone has a price and she named hers. It wasn't until after the wedding that they bothered to speak to each other properly."

"So him and Anthea aren't an item then?" John asked.

"Definitely not. She's just his PA." Sherlock said, getting to his feet and going to the living room window, "Why haven't we heard anything, John?"

* * *

Despite four weeks of being held captive, Mycroft hadn't answered any of the questions that he'd been asked. He accepted the food and water that was offered and remained dressed in his three-piece suit as much as possible. Whilst his captors became increasingly frustrated and angry, Mycroft amused himself by practicing his knowledge of foreign languages.

"Okay, Mr Holmes, we're clearly not getting anywhere with you." the man replied, "So we're going to try something different. Let me introduce you to our leader."

Mycroft looked surprised when a tall man walked into the room.

"Hello brother dear. How are you?" came the dark voice of Sherrinford Holmes, "Don't look so surprised. Surely you didn't really think that Moriarty was behind all of this, did you? Now, let's get down to business."

* * *

After 4 long weeks of being held captive, Mycroft calmly walked into his Whitehall office at exactly 8am. His suit was freshly cleaned and pressed and he was neatly groomed, as usual.

"Mr Holmes! Are you alright?" Anthea said, rushing over.

"Of course I am, Anthea. What is my schedule for today?" Mycroft asked, as though he'd never been away at all.

"You need to go and have your checks done with the medical office, Sir. They need to clear you to be fit to work. After you've done that, I'd advise you to visit your brother." Anthea replied.

"Sherlock probably hasn't even noticed that I've been away." Mycroft replied, turning around and leaving his office.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Here's a brand new chapter! Please review!**_

* * *

"Mycroft! How are you? What happened?" John exclaimed, making his way across the living room of 221B to where Mycroft was sat in his chair.

"Sit down, John. Mycroft is perfectly well, as his doctor told him this afternoon." Sherlock said without turning away from the window.

"This morning, Sherlock, not this afternoon." Mycroft corrected his younger brother's deduction.

"Your little holiday has done you good, brother. There's no need for you to diet now." Sherlock said as he finally turned to face Mycroft and John, "You remember exactly what happened during the entirety of your captivity, including your escape, but you refuse to reveal the truth. Why is that?"

"I have my reasons." Mycroft replied, getting to his feet, "Anyway, I must be off. I have meetings this evening."

"Meetings? Already?" John said in surprise.

"There's no rest for the wicked, John." Mycroft replied with a slight sneer. He left the flat quickly, going straight down the stairs and out to his waiting car.

Sherlock walked to the window and looked down on Baker Street, watching his brother. "He's hiding something, John. He's someone's puppet." he said.

"You once told me that Mycroft was the British Government, how is he now someone's puppet?" John asked, joining Sherlock beside the window.

"I don't know yet, but something happened while he was being held captive." Sherlock said with a sigh, "I'm going to find out what's going on. It's not like my brother to be bullied."

"Don"t you think that we should just give him some space? I mean, he has only just come back. He's probably just stressed and tired." John suggested, turning away from the window.

"Mycroft doesn't get stressed. Or tired. I'm convinced that he's some kind of vampire." Sherlock joked, walking to his armchair.

* * *

"Does dearest Sherlock suspect that something is wrong?" Sherrinford said with a smirk. He was sat beside Mycroft in the private car.

"I expect so. He dislikes mysteries and he's just been handed a juicy one." Mycroft replied with a sigh.

"Good. We'll let him run around the city, following false leads before he gets anywhere near the truth." the eldest Holmes brother replied.

"He thinks you're dead, Sherrinford." Mycroft said, glancing at his older brother before he looked away again.

"Couldn't you tell him what happened? What you actually did to me?" Sherrinford hissed, his mood changing from playful to angry in the blink of an eye.


	8. Chapter 8

"It was easier that he think you dead, brother." Mycroft replied, looking out of the car window.

"You tortured me, Mycroft! You and your little spies!" Sherrinford hissed, his hands forming into fists.

"I had just been promoted and wasn't about to let my criminal brother ruin everything that I'd worked for!" Mycroft shouted, finally losing his temper.

"And your solution was to torture me and have me sectioned?!" the elder Holmes brother replied.

"You weren't harming anyone in the hospital, Sherrinford. How did you get out without me being informed?" Mycroft asked, looking at his brother.

"I spent years in that place, Mycroft. I learnt all of their dirty little secrets and I used them to my advantage. It's, as you would say dearest brother, elementary." Sherrinford replied with a smirk.

* * *

"Let's think about this properly, John. What would Mycroft be scared of?" Sherlock said, pacing in front of his make-shift pinboard on the living room wall.

John scoffed a little, "Socks and sandals? Floral shirts? Anarchy? I have no idea." he answered, an amused smile on his face.

"Anarchy." Sherlock agreed with a nod, writing that down on his board, "What else?"

"Honestly Sherlock, I have no idea." John said with a sigh, "Why don't you ask Beatrice? She's his wife, surely she'll know what he fears?"

"Good idea, John. Text Beatrice." Sherlock said, handing his phone over to his flatmate.

"Is it really that difficult to send your own texts?" John mumbled under his breath as he took the phone and began typing.

Sherlock sat down in his armchair, his pale blue eyes watching John type out the text.

* * *

Beatrice looked up from the telescopic sight on her sniper rifle as her phone went off in her pocket.

"Један тренутак." * she said in fluent Serbian to her partner. She sat back from her rifle and pulled out her mobile, opening the text message. With a slight smile, she got to her feet and glanced at her partner.

"Извињавам се. Морам да телефонирам. То је породична ствар." ** she said before she walked away from the edge of the rooftop in Belgrade, Serbia.

* * *

Sherlock looked up as his phone began to ring.

"That was quick." John said, accepting the call.

_"Anthea messaged me earlier to say that Mycroft was home. I'm on a job outside of London, so I can only speak to you through the phone."_ Beatrice's voice came through on the loudspeaker.

"There was something strange about him. He visited us and Sherlock is convinced there's something wrong." John replied.

"I think someone's putting pressure on him. What would scare him enough to cause him to give in to blackmail?" Sherlock asked.

_"Economic instability?" _Beatrice suggested.

"We've already got anarchy on the list. Think about it properly. What could someone use against Mycroft?" Sherlock said, frustration clear in his voice.

_"You, perhaps? Or me? He's protected you countless times." _Beatrice replied. Shots could clearly be heard in the background. She leaned away from the phone and shouted back to her partner, "Ретурн фире!" ***.

"Is everything alright?" John asked, worry clear in his voice.

_"I have to go. I'll visit you when I'm next in London. Good luck with your investigation." _Beatrice replied hurriedly before she ended the call.

* * *

The car pulled up outside of Mycroft's Chelsea townhouse.

"Surely it's a little obvious for you to be staying here with me? If Sherlock suspects something then this is the first place that he will look." Mycroft said, not getting out of the car.

"Sherlock thinks that I'm dead, just like you said, brother dearest. If he finds evidence of my presence then he won't believe it." Sherrinford replied.

"I could always tell him the truth." Mycroft said, getting out of the car.

"You won't tell him the truth." Sherrinford smirked, getting out of the car and walking to Mycroft's front door, "You know the consequences." he added. He picked the lock and typed in the door codes within just a few seconds and entered the house.

Mycroft sighed and followed his volatile older brother.

* * *

Translations from Serbian to English:

* "One moment."

** "Sorry. I have to make a phone call. It's a family thing."

*** "Return fire!"


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Here's a new chapter! Please do review, I enjoy reading feedback! =]_**

* * *

"I've heard, dearest brother, that someone's been making house calls to you. I didn't realize that you'd found a goldfish." Sherlock said with a slight smirk as he sat playing chess with Mycroft in 221B.

"You've heard wrong, brother. I often receive house calls from fellow civil servants. We are a solitary lot and prefer to mix with our own kind." Mycroft replied, moving his bishop diagonally and taking one of Sherlock's pawns.

"How fun that sounds." Sherlock said sarcastically, "Tell me something, and do try your hardest to be honest, who's pulling your strings?"

"My strings? I wasn't aware that I had any strings, Sherlock." Mycroft replied, taking his turn with a precise movement.

"We found out that wasn't true with Magnussen, brother." Sherlock replied, his eyes fixed on the chessboard, "It must be a high sum of money you've been offered to turn your back on Her Majesty."

"I haven't been bribed and I have not turned my back on Her Majesty the Queen." Mycroft replied, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

"You were taken hostage not for money, or information, but so they could manipulate you." Sherlock said, "You're a key part of whatever plan that they have."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sherlock. I was taken and after my captors were bored of me, they let me go. I am perfectly fine and I'm back at work." Mycroft replied, getting to his feet, "I don't have time for anymore of your childish games, brother."

"You're slipping, Mycroft. Cracks are starting to show on your poker face." Sherlock replied, also getting to his feet.

"Middle age, nothing more." Mycroft dismissed with a wave of his hand.

Sherlock reached out and caught his brother's wrist in a hard grip, "I can hurt you, Mycroft. You may think that you have no weaknesses, but I know every single one of them." he said, "If you're involved in something illegal or dangerous then I will stop you."

"I appreciate your concern, but I have very little time to do anything alongside work." Mycroft replied, pulling his wrist free, "Good afternoon, Sherlock."

"Forgetting something?" Sherlock called with a smirk, holding up Mycroft's umbrella.

Mycroft turned back with a frown, "Stop meddling." he said, snatching the umbrella away.

"You know all about meddling. It's you that needs to stop meddling." Sherlock said, watching Mycroft leave.

* * *

Mycroft returned to his office and began to set Sherrinford's plan in motion. He plugged in the USB drive and moved files between his desktop computer and the drive. He was careful not to leave any sort of digital trail that could be traced back to him.

"Sir, I'm getting alerts from the system mainframe." Anthea said, standing in the doorway to the office.

"Ignore the alerts. Everything's fine. I took a few files home to work on and I'm uploading them back onto the network." Mycroft replied smoothly without looking up.

"Yes, Sir." Anthea replied, going back to her desk and dismissing the security alerts.

Mycroft continued working, hacking into the code and uploading new files.

* * *

"There's been another murder, will you come?" DI Greg Lestrade said from the living room door. He was out of breath from rushing up the stairs.

"Another one? That's three this week!" John exclaimed as he pulled on his jacket and pocketed his gun.

Sherlock left the flat with a swish of his Belstaff coat, eager to get started on his third case of the week. The murders had proved to be complex and engaging cases, with many different lines of inquiry and crime scenes to explore.

"This one is similar to the first murder. It's a similar pattern. I'd say we're looking for a man, taller than the victims, with a slim build. He's an office worker, not an athletic man, but strong enough to restrain the victims." Sherlock said as he hunched over the latest body. It was a brutal stabbing of a woman in one of the back alleys of the city.

With Sherlock suitably distracted, Sherrinford was free to roam the city. He set up crime scene after crime scene, just waiting to be discovered by the Met and their consulting detective. He submerged himself in the criminal underworld, networking with the many criminals he'd need to carry out his plan. He was inspired by Moriarty's work and like the psychopath he was, he longed to become as famous as him. Where Moriarty had failed, Sherrinford knew that he would succeed.


	10. Chapter 10

**_A/N: Here's a brand new chapter. It's only short, but I'm planning what direction to take the story in. Please review, I love reading your comments!_**

* * *

"It's time to step things up." Sherrinford declared, putting a gun down on the kitchen counter.

"This is quite a change in the plan, brother." Mycroft said, looking at the gun and then looking at Sherrinford.

"I'm tired of waiting. I've waited years to make this plan happen." Sherrinford hissed, "You will take the Glock to work with you tomorrow."

"I doubt I'll get into the building with that in my briefcase. Security is strong at the office." Mycroft replied.

"I don't care. Your job is to get the gun inside and to shoot people. I don't care who, but you need to shake things up." Sherrinford said, "You're not to get arrested or shot either. You'll be useless to me if you're arrested."

"Being arrested would stop your plans." Mycroft said.

"You know what happens if you don't do as I say. I might have to pay Mummy a visit." Sherrinford threatened.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr Holmes." Anthea said with a smile, meeting him at the lift.

"Good morning, Anthea." Mycroft replied, walking with her into his office. He could almost feel the gun burning in his briefcase. He didn't want to harm his colleagues but he knew that more people would be harmed if he didn't do as he was told. He waited an hour before he brought the Glock out of his briefcase and loaded it quietly. He managed to shoot just one person before Anthea intercepted him. She threw herself in front of him, grabbing the gun.

"What are you doing, Mr Holmes?! Put the gun down!" she gasped, letting out a cry as the gun went off.

"Anthea!" Mycroft gasped out, dropping the gun once he'd realized that he'd shot her. He hadn't wanted to shoot her as she was his assistant and the closest thing he had to a friend. He caught her as she began to fall. Despite Sherrinford's threats, Mycroft left the gun on the floor and carried Anthea down to the underground car park. He put her into the car and took off to Baker Street.

* * *

"John! Get your medical bag!" Sherlock shouted as he cleared the kitchen table so Mycroft could put Anthea down.

"What happened?" John asked as he rushed down the stairs.

"Mycroft shot Anthea." Sherlock replied, moving away to allow John to get to Anthea.

"What? Why?" John asked.

"It's a long story, but I'm going to have to leave London." Mycroft replied, "Can I leave her with you?"

"What have you gotten yourself into, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked.

"I can't say, Sherlock, but you can't get involved." Mycroft replied as he left the flat. He got into the car and took off out of London.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Here's a new chapter! Please review!**_

* * *

"Am I allowed to know what you're trying to do yet, brother?" Mycroft asked as he sat with Sherrinford in a small terrace house, in a village far from the nearest motorway.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Sherrinford asked with a smirk.

"Psychopaths are difficult to read." Mycroft replied, watching him.

"I'm not a psychopath, Mycroft." Sherrinford chuckled, "I'm just having some fun."

"How is any of this fun?" Mycroft demanded, "I've just lost my job that I've spent my whole life working for!"

"My plan doesn't end with you losing your job, Mycroft. You've been a bad brother. You've let me down and you've let Sherlock down. It's only right that you suffer." Sherrinford hissed.

"How have I let Sherlock down?" Mycroft asked.

"I saw his suicide and I know the lies you told about him!" Sherrinford hissed.

"Sherrinford, my actions were part of Sherlock's plan! It was supposed to look like we'd both been beaten by Moriarty!" Mycroft exclaimed, "When in fact we were pulling the strings the whole time!"

"That won't be happening this time. You won't be pulling any strings." Sherrinford hissed menacingly, "You'll be doing as I say!"

"I prefer to be in control, Sherrinford. If you tell me your plan then I might be able to help you." Mycroft replied calmly.

"Mummy always said that you were manipulative." Sherrinford replied, "You'll figure it out soon enough."

* * *

"I don't know what happened. He just sort of snapped. He pulled out a gun and started shooting. I tried to stop him and he shot me before he seemed to come to his senses. I don't know how he got us out of the building, there were security everywhere. Why would he do that? I mean, it's on CCTV and everything." Anthea told Sherlock and John.

"Was there anything strange about him when he arrived? Anything at all?" Sherlock asked.

"He seemed a little defeated almost when he arrived." Anthea replied, "His body language was different. He lacked his usual control and confidence."

"Thank you, Anthea. That confirms to me that Mycroft hasn't gone mad and isn't doing this deliberately. Who would make him do something like that though?" Sherlock said, picking up his violin and plucking at the strings.

"What are Mycroft's pressure points?" John asked, "If someone threatened to kill you would he do these things?"

"Yes, probably. Mycroft struggles immensely with sentiment. Me, Mummy, Beatrice..." Sherlock said as he thought about it, "So, someone has threatened his family. Who is close enough to him that he can't get rid of and has to do what they say?"

"A relative? An old friend?" John suggested.

"Sherrinford." Sherlock said with a sigh.

"Who?" John asked.

"Sherrinford. Our older brother." Sherlock replied.

"There's three of you?!" John exclaimed.

"Mycroft told me that Sherrinford was dead. He was much more interested in being a criminal than Mycroft or myself." Sherlock explained, "It could be him behind all of this."

* * *

"Go and rob the bank on the high street." Sherrinford said, handing Mycroft a knife, "Act crazy."

"If you need money then I have plenty in my bank accounts." Mycroft replied.

"MI5 will have frozen your accounts by now. Go and get some money. We'll need it to travel to your new home." Sherrinford chuckled.

Mycroft sighed, "My home is in London." he replied.

"Not anymore. You'll probably never be able to return." Sherrinford smirked.

Mycroft did as he was told without protesting any further. He hoped that the police would catch up to them soon so they'd both be caught. He entered the bank, brandishing the knife and managed to steal a few thousand pounds before he fled back to the house. Sherrinford was waiting in the car and Mycroft got straight in with his bag of money.

"Say goodbye to the countryside, Mycroft. It'll be the last time you see it for a long time." Sherrinford chuckled as he drove through the lanes and onto the nearest road.

"Will you not give me a clue about your plans?" Mycroft asked, "You've been very secretive and where's the harm in telling me now?"

"I intend to break you, Mycroft." Sherrinford said simply, "I plan on doing what you did to me. To lock you up and drive you insane."


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Here's a new chapter. Please review!**_

* * *

"Is this really necessary?" Mycroft asked as his brother, Sherrinford, strapped him into a straight jacket. His years in government had helped him to perfect his emotional mask. He appeared to be calm and collected despite his internal panic. With his arms restrained, he knew that he had little hope of escaping from Sherrinford without help.

"Of course it's necessary. Handcuffs would only keep you restrained for a matter of minutes. I know that both you and Sherlock are accomplished escapologists." Sherrinford replied, pulling the straps tighter and tighter until Mycroft winced, "I doubt you'll escape this time, brother."

"The authorities will be looking for us and they will find us." Mycroft replied.

Sherrinford laughed, "No, they won't. Those files I had you install will ensure that all CCTV footage of you is corrupted. There won't be a trail for little Sherlock to follow."

* * *

"There's been a bank robbery up in the north." John said as he flicked through his paper.

"Tedious, John." Sherlock dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"Have you even considered the possibility that Mycroft has had some kind of breakdown?" John sighed, putting the newspaper down and looking at his flatmate.

"Yes, but Mycroft would never allow himself to have a mental breakdown. He is disciplined and controlled with his mind." Sherlock replied.

"Perhaps he is suffering from insanity rather than a breakdown?" John suggested, "He has a high pressure job and his mind must deal with an extreme amount of data at once."

"Insanity is possible but highly unlikely. If he was insane, then why would he bring Anthea here for medical attention after accidentally shooting her?" Sherlock said, "Those aren't the actions of a madman."

There were footsteps on the stairs and Beatrice swept into the room. John couldn't look away from her slim, leather-clad form. He couldn't help but feel jealous that it was Mycroft who had this strong, beautiful woman as a wife.

"Anthea tells me that Mycroft has gone mad." she said as she sat down on the sofa.

"Not exactly. His actions are unusual but I'm sure that there is a valid reason behind them." Sherlock replied.

"Admit it, Sherlock. You're worried about Myc." Beatrice teased with a smile.

"_Mycroft _is probably perfectly fine. He's probably watching us and laughing, as always." Sherlock said, getting to his feet, "It's you who should be worried. If he does turn out to be insane, then you're stuck with him."

Beatrice laughed, "I'm not worried. Mycroft isn't mad." she replied.

"You seem very sure." Sherlock said, scanning her for any evidence of wrongdoing.

"I know my husband." Beatrice defended.

"The husband you don't live with and barely see more than four times a year. That husband?" Sherlock stated.

Beatrice stood up, "Are you accusing me of being involved in this?" she demanded.

"It was you who arrived here to tell us of Mycroft's kidnapping. You told us that you were there but somehow you don't remember seeing Mycroft, your injured and bleeding husband, being taken away. You knew that Mycroft had returned but Anthea never sent you any messages. You are involved in this." Sherlock accused.


	13. Chapter 13

Mycroft could smell the burning flesh before he felt the pain radiating from his right leg. He let out a gasp and then a cry of pain, waking up immediately and looking down to his legs. He'd been strapped down to a bed in an abandoned building in Scotland, far from the nearest village or town. Sherrinford was stood beside him, pressing a red hot poker into the skin on his shin.

"Wakey wakey brother!" Sherrinford laughed, watching Mycroft's flesh burn as his younger brother screamed and writhed. He tortured his brother with the poker for a while longer before he grew bored of the screams and threw the burning metal to the floor. "You're boring. I had hoped you'd put up some sort of fight." he said.

"A fight?! I can barely move!" Mycroft shouted, pulling at the restraints.

"You're so ordinary, Mycroft. I thought you were special." Sherrinford said with a sigh, "Maybe I picked the wrong little brother to play with? I bet Sherlock would be more fun."

"Don't you dare touch him! Do what you like with me, but leave Sherlock out of this!" Mycroft hissed.

"That's what I want! Show some passion! Fight against me!" Sherrinford yelled, a grin on his face.

"You're insane! You're sadistic!" Mycroft shouted.

"Bad brother Mycroft, you'll be a good boy by the time I'm finished with you!" Sherrinford laughed.

* * *

"You've already had a clue!" Beatrice suddenly hissed making Sherlock freeze.

"What?" John said, watching the two of them.

"Sherrinford has already given you a clue! He said you were clever, but clearly not!" Beatrice continued, grabbing John's newspaper, "Look!"

Sherlock frowned, taking the paper and looking for a relevant article. He spotted it in the event listings; '_Three brothers meeting at ancestral home'_. "Scotland. That's where he's got Mycroft." he said.

"I don't understand. Why are you involved in all this?" John asked Beatrice, confusion clear on his face.

Beatrice laughed, "You didn't really think that I loved Mycroft, did you? He's a self-obsessed freak."

"It was Sherrinford that hired you all those years ago." Sherlock deduced, "Your job was to seduce Mycroft, or to at least get close to him. The plan failed and Mycroft had Sherrinford locked away. He didn't know you were involved. He believed your lies. Now Sherrinford is back and is determined to destroy Mycroft."

Beatrice clapped, "Bravo!" she said sarcastically.

"Come on, John. We're off to Scotland." Sherlock said, turning to put his laptop in a backpack.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review =]**_

* * *

Mycroft was relieved by the brief restbite he experienced as Sherrinford left him alone for the day. He was in an awful lot of pain and disliked being in such a vulnerable position. He knew that people would be looking for him as MI5 relied on his work but he hoped that they'd arrive soon. Sherrinford had gone from cold and calculating to downright mad. He knew his brother had always been unhinged, but it was a shock to find the man's anger channeled directly towards him. He did his best not to scream and shout, as the secret service had taught him, but it was difficult when it was his own brother that tortured him day after day. Sherrinford never caused fatal harm, wanting to keep his brother alive for as long as he could.

It was when Sherrinford returned that he found himself pleading. "Whatever you want, I'll help you. If it's a scheme, then I'll help you." he mumbled over and over again as his brother suffocated him with a wet rag. It was only when he was choking and coughing that Sherrinford let him breath freely again.

"The scheme is already in place. The files that I had you upload to the MI5 servers will scramble their databases. All records of known criminals will be deleted and ruined. They'll have to start from scratch and it'll be all your fault." Sherrinford laughed.

"That's not going to happen." came Anthea's voice from the darkness. She stepped forward, a gun in her hand.

"Anthea! Run!" Mycroft gasped out, still coughing up water.

"What a pretty little assistant you are. I'll have a lot of fun with you." Sherrinford chuckled, "Sit quietly while I kill your boss."

Anthea fired two rounds at the wall beside Sherrinford.

"Oh dear. Your pretty little assistant can't shoot, Mykie." Sherrinford sneered.

There was a bang as armed agents descended from the ceiling, with John and Sherlock emerging from the darkness behind Anthea. John rushed to Mycroft, examining his injuries as gently as he could. Mycroft closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to sleep now that he was in safe hands.

* * *

Mycroft woke on the plane home to London. He'd clearly been drugged with something as he felt drowsy and his thoughts were muddled. He opened his eyes and saw John tending to the burns on his leg.

"You're lucky these wounds aren't seriously infected." John said, glancing up at Mycroft.

"It's good to see you, Doctor Watson." Mycroft murmured, a content smile on his face, "Where is my brother?"

"Over here, brother mine." Sherlock called, moving closer so Mycroft could see him, "You're lucky we came to get you."

"Lockie." Mycroft murmured softly.

"How much morphine did you give him? We've not used nicknames since we were teenagers." Sherlock laughed.

"He's on a high dose, just to keep him relaxed until we can get him to his hospital in London." John replied as he changed the bandages gently.

"It's alright, Mykie. Go to sleep." Sherlock said, taking his brother's hand. They weren't prone to displays of affection, but it was unnerving for Sherlock to see Mycroft in so much pain. Mycroft had always been the strong, elder brother and Sherlock disliked having to be the strong one.


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: Here's a new chapter, sorry for the long wait! Please review!**_

* * *

Sherlock paced around the private hospital's waiting room whilst his brother was in surgery. John was sat down a few feet away, watching his flatmate pace.

"Sherlock, you don't have to look so worried. He's going to be fine." John said.

"I'm not worried about Mycroft." Sherlock said quickly, shaking his head.

"Sherlock, you're pacing. It's okay to be worried." John replied.

"I'm not worried. Mycroft is an idiot." Sherlock snapped, "We wouldn't be in this mess if he'd just told us the truth."

"Mycroft has his own ways of coping with things. He's just like you." John said with a sigh.

"Mycroft and I are nothing alike." Sherlock replied. He was annoyed that he hadn't been able to get to Mycroft sooner.

* * *

Anthea emerged from the 'Staff Only' doors seven hours later.

"He's out of surgery and his vitals are fine." she said.

"Is he awake? Is he talking?" Sherlock demanded, getting to his feet immediately.

"No. He'll need to rest, so you're not to go in there and wake him." John said, grabbing his flatmate's arm to stop him walking away.

"I'll stay here and I'll update you if there's any news. Come back tomorrow afternoon, he'll probably be okay to see you by then." Anthea replied before she turned and walked back to her boss' private hospital room.

Sherlock sighed, "At least he's not dead. I'd hate to be the one to tell Mummy." he said.

"Come on. Home." John decided, pulling Sherlock along with him.

* * *

"I'm pretty sure that the doctor wouldn't recommend that you're back at work already." John said the following afternoon, after walking in to discover Mycroft tapping away at his laptop in the hospital bed, wearing a shirt and tie.

"My work never stops, John. I've already been away from my desk for too long." Mycroft replied without looking up.

John sat down in one of the chairs beside the bed, glancing around. His eyes paused on Mycroft's hand, which was missing a ring.

"Did Anthea tell you?" he asked, knowing Mycroft would deduce the subject immediately.

"Yes, although I had my suspicions. As they say - once an assassin, always an assassin." Mycroft replied with a nod.

"Do people say that?" John asked with a frown.

"In my line of work, yes." Mycroft answered.

"Are you upset?" John asked. He knew he'd hit a tender subject when Mycroft's fingers paused on the keyboard.

"It is an unfortunate turn of events." Mycroft replied, his voice cold.

"Brother! Back ruling the world again?" Sherlock teased as he swept into the room.

"I occupy a minor position-" Mycroft started.

"Yes, yes. Enough of that, Mykie." Sherlock dismissed.

"My name is Mycroft, Sherlock." Mycroft warned.

"Is it? Oh, I thought we were back to nicknames again? Clearly the drugs have worn off then." Sherlock said.

"What?" Mycroft sighed, rising up to Sherlock's bait.

"We had to dose you up on the way home. Honestly, Her Majesty would be shocked at the secrets you revealed. It's a good thing criminals weren't listening in either, what with you telling us all your computer passwords..." Sherlock continued.

Mycroft tensed, "What?" he demanded, reaching for his phone to contact Anthea.

"Relax. He's teasing you." John said, stepping in before Sherlock could wind Mycroft up anymore.

"Have you come here purely to annoy me, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock put on his best mock horror look, "No, of course not!" he said sarcastically.

"Go away, Sherlock." Mycroft muttered.

"I actually came to set you up a Tinder profile. You're as the kids say, a 'single pringle' now, brother. You need to start looking before you get too old for companionship." Sherlock teased.


	16. Chapter 16

Mycroft was hurting, that much was obvious. The government official was visiting 221B Baker Street at least two or three times a week. He even brought food with him. He'd been released from hospital after two weeks of observation and he'd thrown himself back into work.

"Here again, brother?" Sherlock sighed when he arrived home from a case to find Mycroft and John serving out takeaway onto plates.

"Yes, I finished my meetings earlier than expected." Mycroft replied, uncorking a bottle of red wine with a corkscrew. He poured the wine into three glasses and didn't even mind when he spilled some on his pure white shirt cuffs.

John didn't say anything, but he was watching Mycroft closely. The man brought wine with him on every visit and John knew that he was probably drinking at home too. He knew that Mycroft was a control freak but the elder Holmes brother seemed to be rapidly losing control.

* * *

"Thanks for coming." Anthea said with a sigh as she opened the front door of Mycroft's home.

"What's wrong?" John asked as he and Sherlock entered the house.

"Mr Holmes was drinking at the office." Anthea admitted, "I had to escort him out with the help of a security guard. His drinking is getting out of control."

"Where is he?" Sherlock demanded, clearly not happy.

"This way." Anthea said, leading the way upstairs to Mycroft's bedroom.

Mycroft was slumped on the bed, his phone in his hand.

"No." Anthea said, rushing over and pulling the phone out of his hand, "No using the phone when you're drunk."

"Get lost." Mycroft slurred.

"Oh dear, brother. You are in a state." Sherlock said with a slight chuckle. It had been a very long time, an eternity, since he'd last seen Mycroft drunk.

John walked over and took hold of Mycroft's wrist, feeling his pulse.

"Get off Watson." Mycroft mumbled.

"Come on. Cold shower time." John decided.

Mycroft slurred abuse at Sherlock and John as they manhandled him into the shower.

"Shut up, Mycroft." Sherlock said, holding his brother under the freezing spray of the ensuite shower.

* * *

"How much did you drink?" Sherlock asked as he sat beside Mycroft once he'd sobered up.

"It's a blur. There was vodka and Jack Daniels in my desk." Mycroft admitted with a sigh.

"I know you felt strongly for her, brother, but you don't need to turn to drink." Sherlock said cautiously, unsure whether Mycroft would want to talk about it.

"She played me." Mycroft muttered.

"She played all of us, brother mine. You are free of her now." Sherlock said softly, reaching out to touch Mycroft's arm, "You shouldn't dwell on her. Not when you have Anthea."

"She's just my assistant." Mycroft protested.

"No, she isn't. She cares about you, brother. Focus on her and forget Beatrice." Sherlock advised, "If you carry on as you are now then Sheffinford will have won."

Mycroft nodded and sighed, knowing his brother was right.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Here's a brand new chapter for you! Please review and let me know your thoughts! =]_**

* * *

"Anthea, I wondered if you might join me for dinner." Mycroft asked with his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

"Oh. Yes, Mr Holmes. I'd like that very much." Anthea replied with a nod and a smile.

"Good. Shall we finish at 6pm and go straight to the restaurant?" Mycroft suggested.

"That sounds lovely, Mr Holmes." Anthea agreed with a slight blush.

"Excellent. 6pm then." Mycroft confirmed before he went back into his office. He sat down at his desk and marked his calendar to show that he was busy that evening.

6pm arrived and Mycroft finished work. He locked away his files and locked the office before he joined Anthea at the lift.

"So, where are we going?" Anthea asked to make conversation.

"A small French bistro in Covent Garden. If that sounds nice to you?" Mycroft suggested.

"Yes, I love French food." Anthea replied with a smile.

"I know. I deduced it." Mycroft said with a wink, doing his best to be charming.

* * *

"Is it open?" Anthea asked as their car pulled up outside a fancy restaurant in Covent Garden. It looked closed from the outside.

"Of course. It's always open for me." Mycroft replied, sliding out of the car. He took Anthea's hand and led her out of the car and into the restaurant.

"Wow." Anthea said with a raised eyebrow, looking around at the beautiful but empty restaurant, "You booked out the whole restaurant?"

"Of course. It's our first date. I didn't want other people there to ruin it. It's just us, a waiter and the chefs. Perfect." Mycroft replied, leading her over to their table in the middle of the room.

"You always surprise me, Mr Holmes." Anthea admitted with a chuckle.

"Please, call me Mycroft." Mycroft replied, sitting down opposite Anthea and handing her a menu, "Choose anything you'd like. It's on me."

"You're really too kind...Mycroft. Let me pay half." Anthea suggested.

"No. I insist. The bill is mine and mine alone." Mycroft insisted.

* * *

"So she liked the restaurant then?" Sherlock said, glancing briefly at Mycroft and making his deductions in an instant.

"She did, very much so. Thank you for recommending it." Mycroft replied as he sat down in John's armchair in the living room of 221B.

"The owner owes me a favour or three." Sherlock said dismissively with a wave of his hand.

"Well, even so, I appreciate you arranging the evening for me." Mycroft replied with a slight nod.

"She's good for you." Sherlock told his brother.

"As is John for you. If you'd give him the chance." Mycroft pointed out in response.


End file.
